"Daddy's Girl" - читать интересную книгу автора (Scottoline Lisa)

Chapter 2

After class was over, Nat said goodbye to McConnell, who had rendered judgment on Shylock and presumably on her, too. She grabbed her stuff to leave, but by then Angus Holt's class was entering the hall, pouring down the center aisle, laughing and joking like they were at a party. They kept coming and coming, and soon she found herself swimming upstream against a student tsunami of water bottles and Coach purses. She watched, astounded, as one by one they filled every seat in the lecture hall. Nat had never seen so many students in one place, except at graduation.

She started up the aisle, where Angus stood surrounded by a circle of clinic students, identifiable by their unruly hair, so collectively curly it hovered above them like a cloud. She didn't know much about the clinic, except that it taught students to work as lawyers for the public good, while avoiding the abstract legal issues that bored everyone but her. Whatever Angus was doing, it was working. Faculty Freak trumped Faculty Comic Relief.

"Natalie!" he called out, waving to her. His student circle broke up and went to their seats, and Angus strode down the aisle in jeans and Frye boots.

What do you teach?" Nat asked, looking up at him. He towered over her by a full foot and wore his blond hair parted messily down the middle. His thick, uncombed ponytail trailed over his shoulders and the knitted cables of his fisherman's sweater.

"Issues in Constitutional Law. Why?" Angus's eyes flashed a bright, amused blue. His nose was straight and his grin omnipresent, even if buried inside a mellow-yellow beard, and he smelled vaguely of patchouli, or marijuana.

"Because… this room, it's full. It must be a great course. You must be a great teacher."

Angus smiled modestly. "Not at all, and by the way, I love your mustache. Most women shy away from facial hair, but I say, go for it."

Nat had forgotten. Her hand flew to her face and she almost dropped her purse and papers. She spit on her fingertips and wiped her upper lip.

"You're just smearing it around." Angus laughed, his teeth white and even. "Forget it, it doesn't matter. That was a cool move with McConnell."

"Thanks." Nat gave up on the mustache. "Did he say anything when he left? I thought I saw him speak to you on the way out."

"Don't worry about it. You love your course, and it shows."

It's my passion, which I suck at. Rather, at which I suck. "Did McConnell say that? Am I fired?"

"All he said was that he found the class 'unusual.'" Angus made quote marks in the air. "Don't sweat it. Of course you're not fired."

"Easy for you to say. You have tenure. I have nine students."

"How do you do in your other classes?"

"I fill the room when the courses are mandatory. And they're 1Ls, so they're too terrified not to listen."

"You know what your problem is? You're not getting to the right students. You need marketing."

"Marketing, of justice?" Nat recoiled. "They're law students. They should be interested in justice."

"No, they're interested in law, and there's a difference. Isn't that your point?" Angus looked down at her, smiling. "For example, how many of your students want to practice law?"

"I assume all of them."

"I bet you're wrong. In my non-clinic classes, like this one"-Angus gestured around the noisy hall-"many of the students are going into business. They just want the law degree."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. Didn't you ever ask them? Talk to them about their future? Their plans? What they want out of life?"

"No." Nat reddened. She had office hours but no one came in, and she communicated with her students mostly by email. She probably kept too much to herself; that's what her father always said. She felt guilty that she didn't network, especially now that it had become a verb.

"You need to reach the students who want to be trial lawyers. Students who feel justice at gut level, like the students in my clinic. They'd love your seminar." Angus nodded. "Tell you what, I'll spread the word, and maybe you can stop by sometime and promote yourself?'

Yuck. Nat shuddered.

"Anyway, can I ask you a favor? I need your expertise."

"My expertise is legal history. Who are you suing? Julius Caesar?"

"You're funny."

You're high. Two male students walking in stared at Nat's mustache.

"You know how the clinic works. We give the students hands-on experience outside the classroom, through externship programs. One is at a local prison in Chester County. I'd like you to lecture there, with me."

"At a prison?"

It's safe. Minimum security. Inmates who take my class have to be selected, and most of em are only in for DUIs or pot possession."

Bingo. "What would I lecture on?"

"Tell 'em exactly what you told your class today. It was a great class." Angus sounded genuinely enthusiastic. "Tell 'em that true justice is tempered with mercy. That the Duke was wrong to bring Shylock to his knees. That law and justice are not always the same thing."

"But Shakespeare? To prisoners?"

"'Hath not a Jew eyes?'" Angus knit his furry blond brows, and his tone stiffened. "Maybe prisoners can relate to Shakespeare better than Ivy Leaguers can. Nobody knows the difference between law and justice better than prison inmates." He checked the clock. "I should get started. So, you free tomorrow morning?"

"It's tomorrow you're talking about?"

"One of my students got sick, and I need to fill that spot. I'd really love it if you came along. Please?" Angus slapped his hands together in mock prayer, and heads turned, one by one.

"I don't know." Nat tried to think of a way to say no. She wasn't teaching tomorrow and she couldn't lie. Faculty schedules were online.

"Please, Professor Natalie? I'm begging you." Suddenly Angus dropped to one knee and raised his hands in supplication. His students giggled and pointed, the whole room beginning to take notice, and Nat laughed, disarmed. It was fun and embarrassing, both at once.

"Okay, yes. Stop."

"Cool! Pick you up at nine." Angus popped up with a broad grin, and the students clapped and hooted with approval, which he seemed to absorb and reflect like the sun itself, beaming down at her. He soaked in the attention, and Nat could see that there were no failure spotlights in the life of Angus Holt.

She turned and fled.